Blade
by soavezefiretto
Summary: I love him. Frak. What am I going to do now? - Stream-of-consciousness Laura POV, set during Unfinished Business.


Disclaimer: I don't own "Battlestar Galactica" or any of its characters or story lines. I make no money with this.

Rating: mention of violence, angst

Summary: There are many potential moments when Laura Roslin could have realized her feelings towards Bill Adama. This is one of them. Set during "Unfinished Business". Stream-of-consciousness, Laura POV.

Words: 1061

A/N: English is not my native language. This is not betaed. I welcome constructive criticism. And I often steal from novels, songs, films and even other fanfiction without even noticing. If you notice any blatant transgressions or plagiarisms, please feel free to bring them to my attention. Chances are, they were not intentional, and only motivated by admiration.

Blade

Blood and sweat on her skin. The thick smell of cigarettes and adrenalin. Finally, Bill has made Tyrol angry, Laura can see the chief's eyes glaze over, his fist shoots out of his hip and hits the Admiral like a hammer. He doubles over, spits, stumbles, but doesn't fall.

That's when she knows. In that moment, with instant clarity. It races through her body, like a lightning bolt.

_I love this man. And I will do so until the day I die._

The flashes of memories: his eyes, his laugh, his voice. Lying beside him, feeling his heartbeat through the roughness of his tunic. That isn't just random nostalgia. It's her heart and her mind telling her that this is it.

The fight is over. In a daze, she listens to his words of love to his crew, she hears him ask for their forgiveness, proudly. She can feel her fingers stretching away from her involuntarily, wanting to take her arms with her, her whole body: more than anything, she wants to touch him. Even though he stands right before her, everything has changed now, and she needs reassurance that he is real. But when he finally steps down from the ring and leans on her, she feels numb, is hardly aware of his presence next to her, can't hear what he's saying.

Usually, he walks with her to the Raptor that will take her back to Colonial One. Tonight, she walks him to his cabin. They don't speak on the way. Laura cannot believe herself, it's like she is walking in a dream. She knows she has to speak, say something light and fun before she leaves, to take the gravity off the evening. But it's like everything has shut down, except basic life support: she walks, she breathes, but not much else. For what seems like a painfully long eternity, she just stands there, mere inches away from him, so close that she can almost taste him. Finally, he just turns, steps into his quarters, and closes the door behind him.

Laura can't remember how she made it back to her ship, her quarters, her bed. She lies there as if drunk. The room starts to spin around her, she feels herself floating up, up, and out into space.

_I love him. I love him._

How could she have been so stupid. How could she not have seen. How could she convince herself that they were friends. Just good friends. Really good friends. Right.

_Frak. What am I going to do now?_

Well, that's easy. Nothing. She will do nothing, obviously. She is going to pretend this never happened. She will keep her distance. Be friendly, but firm. Oh, it will hurt, but it's for the best, surely. Surely. This simply can not be.

It can not be. But it is. Love can not be undone, passion can not be unfelt. This kind of certainty only happens once in a lifetime. She loves him, and she knows it, and that's that. There's no way back Trying to forget, pretending it isn't so, would only make it worse. She may never have been in love like this, but she is old enough to know that this is so.

There's only one thing to it: acceptance. She is used to that, to accepting things that hurt, that threaten to destroy her very soul, and still go on: the death of her sisters; the Cylon attack; Billy's death; even her complicated relationship with Adar. She knows now, of course, that that was not really love. It was not this knowledge, this sort of unnamed absolute that seems to fill her down to every blood-cell. But it was painful, and she learned to live with it.

Slowly, her pulse slows, her breathing starts to come more regularly. The spinning dies down, until only a slight rocking feeling is left, as if she lay in a ship in the open sea.

Fine then. Laura Roslin loves Bill Adama. Nothing can be said or done about it, so she will just have to bear it on her own.

One question remains though. Why should love hurt? Well, apart from the assurances of almost every novel, song, or film ever written.

The love she felt for Adar, if that was what it was - that hurt. It was twisted and muddy and depressing. In the best moments, she thought it was romantic. Forbidden love, that sort of thing. Kind of like it is now. The President and the Admiral. Forbidden, forbidden. And yet it feels so different. It *is* different. Even though the situation is hopeless, nothing about it is complicated, and she certainly doesn't feel depressed. Although her body still feels numb, her mind is clear and focused now, and the pain is sharp like a knife's blade.

Sharp like a knife, the next thought comes, inevitable, inexorable.

_What if he feels the same?_

For a moment, she is afraid her heart will literally stop. Can a heart stop beating of its own will? Then, there it is again, thick and fast: thud, thud, thud.

What if he lies in his bed, right now, his heart beating, just like mine, thinking of me? Thinking _it is forbidden, it cannot be, I cannot look at her like that_. What if she is not alone? Would that change anything?

What if they both feel the same certainty, the same clarity, but none of them speaks about it, ever, and they spend years like this, their lives, wasted?

Suddenly, every muscle in her body seems to tense up, it is almost unbearable, any moment now she will have to scream... The next second, it's over. She feels an almost physical tug, as if she was having a teeth pulled under heavy local anesthesia. Not only her body, but also her heart and her mind are letting go, against her active will, as it seems. Maybe for the first time in her life, she really believes in the gods, or god. Not just prophecies, but a Higher Power. Something or someone that is watching over her, and that someone is whispering: "It's all right. It will be all right. Don't worry about it now. Sleep. Sleep."

Drifting off, Laura Roslin has time for one last thought.

_I can take everything else, but let him live. Only let him live. Please._


End file.
